It’s been one of THOSE days. One of those days where I remember that I really, really hate homeschooling. Like pick it up and drop kick it hate.  I’m not one to extoll the virtues and write beautiful illustrated blog posts about the lovely craft the children and I did while studying fractals in a puddle. Homeschooling makes me cry.

But at least I’m not the only one. I learned to day that conifers are mean. And they make little girls cry. Or at least reading about them makes them cry.

And don’t even get me started on writing in complete sentences. Or putting a header on your paper. When I’m feeling particularly sadistic, and as I am not consuming coffee that’s more often than not, I will actually make children show me their work in math. Lining up the various place values! That’s its own level of hell.

I feel strongly about education. It’s the one thing you can lose. No one can take it from you. So of course it’s what a mother wants to give to all her children. Especially since their soccer commitments are burning through any spare cash that might trickle its way through the generations.

As it is, my gift is being thrown back in my face. Not only that, I am being actively sabotaged.  I overheard Baby tell one of my students, who was there for a math lesson “Just tell my mom you lost your book and let’s have a tea party.”

I’ve tried coaxing and cajoling. I’ve tried guilt, but mentioning girls who get shot because they try to attend school leads to the simple conclusion that school is detrimental to your health. And don’t mention schools that get blown up. That just leads to alleged fears that your school will be the next target. And as a result you should be left alone to play GI Joes.

Ai yi yi. At least tomorrow’s Wednesday. Half way there.

Maybe I’ll even let them do their assignments in Sharpie, since that is always the only writing utensil they can find.